Cold
by Letharael
Summary: Lady of the cold. Idle thoughts lead odd actions. Read at your own risk.


**Disclaimer  
**The series is great.  
I cannot claim to own it.  
Naruto's not mine.

**Note**  
_Appreciated  
by the bored and the perverts.  
Read at your own risk._

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**  
Cold.**

A thick vent of steady steam rises from the hot mug of cocoa. It's cold today and she takes a sip. From some unknown signal, she pauses at sifting through her work on the desk...

...And casually glances at the mirror.

The image of a young woman, with pale white eyes and shoulder-length, deep indigo hair glances back at her. They lock eyes for the time being, each following the same line of thought. She sees something that isn't quite there.

Carefully, very carefully, the woman rises, eyes never breaking from the mirror and she slowly, purposely slinks over.

Even when employing the use of her bloodline, her eyes do not drift away from facing forward. No one is watching her through the walls and her whispering paranoia is quietened. Only then she breaks eye contact and proceeds.

Carefully and methodically, she removes items of clothing on her body and stands fearless to the mirror. A pale hand begins at the only apparel left on her person; the headband tied around her neck, and travels down to her navel, slightly skimming each and every bump -whether toned from hard work at training or naturally attained from blossoming into woman hood. The goosebumps react at the feel of bare skin to the chilled room temperature.

Again, she uses her blood inheritance to make sure no one is impeaching on her privacy. Again she is satisfied and retrieves two pieces of clothing hastily concealed in her closet. Obviously, they were meant to fit someone more akin to a child than to her well-endowed adult frame...

Regardless she dresses herself in that apparel.

Truthfully, the clothes weren't even hers.

She had spent a great deal of effort whisking the clothes away from their original owner and into the confines of her own room. It was only when she brought the clothes to her face to inhale the scent of the former occupant, did she realise what she had done. The clothes swiftly disappeared to the back of the closet, banished from view and she berated herself at doing something so foolish. Her original intent was just to proccur these items (as she assumed the owner wouldn't notice the clothes he had outgrown were missing) so that she'd have something to admire him from afar.

But the weeks had passed and the articles did not disappear from her mind. In fact, during that time, they silently mocked her and pulled at her until she could not resist it any longer.

And so now, she dons his clothes. She disregarded the use of under garments to feel closer to him and it pays off. The jumper is tight. The sleeves stop just a little past her mid-forearm and quite alot of her mid-rif is showing thanks to her ample bossom holding too much of the fabric up, showing just a hint of breast.

The pants are even tighter than the jumper. They stop at her mid-thigh and the pants bunch up as her thighs fill in too much fabric. The zipper and button is left undone because her hips are too big for it to close and is unable to cover enough skin from the back or the front. Another inch or two lower and it would wholly undecent (if what was showing wasn't already scandalous enough).

She then retrieves the bandages from her medical pack and begins wrapping herself at various spots -not that she requires the medical attention. Afterwards, she applies her own ninja boots to complete the ensemble.

She peers at her reflection again. The figure she sees before her causes her embarrassment and she blushes but she fights the urge to cover herself or stop with this awful game...

...But she can't help herself.

When she gets back to her (deviated) senses, she realises that something is still amiss. She removes her headband tied around her neck and begins tying it around her forehead. Making sure the bangs are covered, she takes the time to comb her flowing mane back. Make the cut clean. No split ends.

Then she takes a look into the mirror again and is shocked at what she sees. Obvious female continuity errors aside, she is his likeness.

Hesitant steps line the way to the mirror and she takes one last look around to again confirm no one is watching. Then she looks towards her reflection and glares.

The illusion is complete.

Parallel hands rise up and fingers meet.

_Cold._

She expects his touch to be. Much like his expression. But she doesn't care. She's lost in his eyes and just wants to get closer.

Then her eyes shut and she closes the gap.

His lips are cold too.

"Neji-niisan."

A murmur escapes Hinata's lips and her breath condenses the mirror, shrouding a fraction with fog.

But she doesn't care.

She likes the cold.

**End

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**

**Author's word**  
So ends my story.  
I don't know why I did this.  
Is best not to ask.


End file.
